


Asha tells a story

by bluebright_l



Series: Bedtime Stories [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Gen, House Greyjoy, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My titles are oh-so-original. But they do tend to explain what's happening pretty well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asha tells a story

They had taken him away from his mother. Tomorrow they would take him away from everyone he’d ever known, every place he’d ever seen in his life, away from the sea. Theon wanted to cry, but he was ten now, and everyone knew ten was too old to cry. He’d sailed Dagmer Cleftjaw’s _Foamdrinker_ from Pyke to Harlaw, and could shoot a gull down with an arrow straight through the eye...no, Theon Greyjoy would not cry. Even when they set sail tomorrow, far away from any person he’d ever known, and he was the ward of a man who he’d seen storming the walls of his father’s keep, his _home_.

Ned Stark was a hard man; Theon could see that clearly, having been raised by hard men himself. The rumor was that it was Ned himself who had killed Theon’s older brother, Maron, at the breach by the old South Tower. Theon knew he should want to avenge his brother’s death, but Maron had been nothing but cruel to him. The only one of his siblings he cared about was Asha. She teased him on occasion, but was more likely to slip him an extra sweet when she came back from Lordsport or save him the burnt bacon when they broke their fast.

Theon sat up a little in his bed, pulling the furs closer under his chin. Asha had told him she would come to him tonight. Their father had expressly forbidden anyone to see him after the official farewell ceremony, but he knew Asha would come...Father wouldn’t beat her for it, and she wouldn’t care even if he did. He had seen her get a beating once...she’d laughed flippantly at the first stroke, and winked at him as she walked away after the last, her tall leather boots ringing out on the damp stone floors.

A scratch at the door sent his memories fluttering away, and then Asha was slipping in. Theon gaped, she was in a long nightshirt, almost like a dress. He had never seen his sister in a dress. She looked like one of the ghosts Maron and Rodrik had always told him haunted the Bloody Keep, and Theon swallowed hard.

“Did I scare you, little brother?” Asha motioned for him to scoot over, and climbed into bed beside him once he had. Her feet were bare against his calves, cold and damp from the floors, as she tucked them under the furs. She was teasing him, even now, but the way she drew an arm around his thin shoulders told him she didn’t mean to cause him pain.

“No,” he said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I knew you’d come, even though Father said not to.”

“Father…” Asha sighed. “Father has done what he must, but there was no reason for not letting anyone see you again after this evening. He just wants you to be strong and represent the family well. He thought if Mother or I, or even Dagmer, came to see you, it would only make you sad about leaving, and he sees sadness as weakness.”

“But isn’t he sad about Rodrik and Maron?” Theon knew his mother was, and he had tried to comfort her, even though he felt nothing regarding the deaths of his brothers.

Asha sighed again. Theon wondered if he was annoying her with his questions. “I don’t know, little brother. Mayhap. But...children die. Uncle Urri died when he was younger than I am now. We are Ironborn, death is nothing to us.” She jostled him playfully. “Enough of this dark talk. I came to tell you a story, if you care to hear one…”

It was just like old times! Theon threw his arms around his sister’s waist and squeezed her tightly. “Of course! You tell the best stories. Even better than Dagmer.”

“Where do you think I learned them from, you ninny?” She ruffled his hair, and he could hear that she was pleased. “Which one will you have tonight?”

Theon’s mind raced. Which story? There were so many...stories of his family’s past, recent and ancient, spooky stories like the Rat King’s dinner...he shuddered. No, nothing too scary. He bit his lip, indecisive, and listened to the wind howling around the Great Keep. There was a storm coming, and he wondered if it would delay his departure. It would never delay the Iron Fleet, he knew, but greenlanders were a different story.

“If you don’t pick, I’m going to pick a kissy one,” Asha teased, interrupting his racing mind.

Theon would never tell her, but sometimes he liked the kissy ones. But there was one story that was a perfect mix… “The Grey King and Nagga,” he told her. “And his mermaid queen.”

“Good choice, baby brother.” Asha burrowed a little deeper under the furs and pulled him a little closer.

“A thousand and a thousand years ago was the Age of Heroes, and none more heroic than the Grey King. All the sea was his dominion, and much of the western lands as well. One day, the Grey King was out reaving with his men when they came across a mermaid on a spit of rock in the open ocean. At first they thought she was sunning herself, but as they drew closer, the King and his men could see that she was bleeding from many deep wounds. Despite the wounds, she was the most beautiful woman the King had ever seen. Her hair was long and inky and fell almost to her hips, where her tail of shimmering silver scales began.”

“As they approached, the mermaid hailed them weakly and called out.” Asha affected a high, silvery voice. “‘Please, great King, help me,’ she said. The King stood at the starboard bow of his ship, and the mermaid propped herself up on her elbows, not without great effort, for she was still bleeding profusely.

“The King…” Theon detected a hint of laughter in Asha’s voice. “Was having a very hard time focusing on the mermaid’s words, for she wore no clothing to cover her body, and had beautiful perfect breasts. But he was not the King for nothing, and he shook off his distraction and focused on the mermaid’s words.”

“‘I am Iaera,’ the mermaid said and the King inclined his head respectfully. He had heard of this warrior princess before, a leader of her people, just as he was of his.”

“Wait, since when was the mermaid queen a warrior princess?” Theon was confused. “This isn’t how Dagmer told me thi- Ow!” He rubbed his arm where Asha had pinched him.

“I’m telling it _my_ way,” Asha said. “Besides, this is the right way. Dagmer doesn’t know _everything_.” She coughed dramatically and carried on.

“Iaera had been wounded by Nagga, the first sea dragon to ever swim the seas. She had sworn to slay the great beast, but had barely escaped with her life. The Grey King looked again at Iaera in all her beauty and strength, and swore that he would kill Nagga for what he had done to her, as well as for the good of his people and hers. His rage was mighty to behold, but Iaera simply watched him, unimpressed.

‘You will find the beast at Old Wyk,’ she told him. ‘I injured her, and she has taken to the shallows to heal.’”

Asha lowered her voice in a fair impression of their uncle Victarion, who was evidently playing the part of the Grey King in her version of this story. Theon had always imagined their father in the role, but he didn’t raise any objections. The story was just getting good now.

“‘She shall die by my hand,’ the Grey King boomed, ‘I swear by the Drowned God.’

‘Finish what I have started, and you will win a great boon,’ Iaera told him, before slipping off of the rock and swimming away, her silvery tail winking in the sun.”

Theon assumed the boon would be her hand in marriage; it seemed like that was always the case in the stories. Either a maiden’s hand in marriage or a magical sword. He’d take the maiden and his bow, if it were up to him. Asha didn’t say, but just went on, and her voice seemed to live in the howl of the wind around the keep.

“The King sailed to Old Wyk, which was known as Old Wyk even a thousand years ago, at once, and just as Iaera had said, Nagga was there. She was a great beast, bigger than any kraken or leviathan of the deep, with hundreds of sharp teeth like longswords. The men of the Grey King’s crew were the most brave warriors the Ironborn had ever seen, but even they quailed before the fearsome creature before them. The King cursed them roundly, but none of the men would stand with him and fight. Finally, they beached the longship, and the Grey King stood alone on the strand, as his men hid in the belly of their ship.

‘Come and fight, you foul bitch!’ he roared, brandishing his axe to the leaden sky.’” Theon had always pictured the Grey King with a great longsword, but the story was all around him now, and he could see the great double-headed axe in the King’s hand clearly. Asha’s voice was low and steady as she went on.

“Waves flooded the beach as Nagga approached, crashing over the Grey King’s legs and threatening to wash him away, but he stood fast. When Nagga rose up out of the breakers and came ashore, the King’s breath caught in his throat and his guts turned to frozen lead, but he showed none of it, not even when she opened her enormous maw and roared at him. Her breath was hot and stunk of rotten fish, but the Grey King just sneered and adjusted his grip on the axehandle.

The battle was long and fierce. The Grey King’s men eventually came to the deck of the ship to watch, but there wasn’t much to be seen; a great storm of water and earth surrounded the battle, with occasional flashes of scaly skin or shining axe their only insight into what was happening within the maelstrom.

Finally there was a great roar, followed by a earth-shaking rumble. When the dust and surf had cleared, the Grey King stood triumphant atop Nagga’s massive head. The beast’s neck had been nearly severed straight through, and a mossy green ichor seeped from the wound in fitful spurts.”

Theon shivered pleasurably against his sister’s side. He could see the great dying beast vividly in his head, and felt the same wonderment as the Grey King’s men. That was his ancestor, standing astride the head of a fell beast he had killed with his own two hands and an axe. What stories had the Starks to compare to this one? Theon’s heart swelled in his chest, and his chin jutted out with a stubborn pride. Asha stroked his hair with a hand far more gentle than he’d known was possible for her, and went on.

“Having slain the beast, the Grey King sacrificed half his men to the Drowned God in thanks for his help, then enlisted the rest of the men in building him a great Hall on Old Wyk. He had a castle on Pyke and a castle in the Westerlands already, but this would be where he would marry his bride. For Iaera had come to him after the battle, her tail changing into a pair of long, shapely legs, and kissed him gently, first on the brow, then on the lips. Her boon was her hand in marriage, and the Grey King was determined to give her a home befitting the Queen of both land and sea.”

Theon had always had questions at this part of the story, and now, emboldened by his imminent departure, he spoke up. “But, Asha, how does…”

“Hush up and I’ll tell you, little brother.” She seemed to be reading his mind, but then Asha had always been perceptive. She also seemed to be laughing at him, but Theon was used to that.

“Iaera had a certain magic about her, as all creatures of the sea did and do to this day. She could change herself into human form, but only for a limited time. The longer she stayed human, the more painful it became for her. She stayed a mermaid while the Grey King built their home, with the promise that she would stand beside him and marry him once the hall was completed.

So the men strived and toiled, and after a year, the hall was built. Nagga’s ribs stood as pillars around which the hall was constructed, and her living fire, which could not be quenched, served to warm the hall all the year ‘round. The Grey King had a throne built from her jaws, and a fearsome crown crafted from her teeth. For his queen, a crown was also made: a simple filigree of iron, set with a single pearl the size of a man’s fist that had been found in Nagga’s gullet.

When they married, the Grey King set the crown upon Iaera’s brow and proclaimed her his Queen. And they lived in the hall for many a year, but never was an heir produced. The Queen could not bear to stay on land long enough to see a pregnancy through to childbirth.”

Theon had never heard this part of the story, but he listened intently. He knew that, now that Rodrik and Maron were both feasting with the Drowned God, he was his father’s heir. He wondered what would happen if his ship capsized tomorrow or if he died in the cruel winters of the North...he had been told many times that he had nearly been the death of his mother, and he couldn’t imagine her bearing another child. Theon swallowed hard, his fingers scrambling to find Asha’s under the furs. Surely he would only be gone for a short time. Once he was a man grown, he would come home and claim his rightful place at his father’s side…

“The Grey King was a stronger man than most, but eventually even he began to feel the cold creeping fingers of age on the nape of his neck,” Asha’s nails drifted down Theon neck and he shivered again, squeezing her other hand. “The Queen, being a mermaid, did not age like a normal woman, but was still as young and fertile as she had been on the day they married. One day, she came to him in his bath,” Theon’s eyes widened. He had most definitely never heard this part of the story before. “All wet and soapy and shining. Her skin shone with a silvery sheen, the scales of her tail always hidden right below the surface, and the Grey King took her in his arms at once.

‘I want to give you a child, love,’ she said, placing one slim finger over his lips to hush any protests. ‘You need an heir, and I will not let you get one on a saltwife.’

They both knew what that meant, but they made their heir that night by the light of a sickle moon, for Iaera had the second sight and knew exactly what she was doing.”

Theon wondered why Asha sounded so self-satisfied, but the thought merely flitted through his brain while he pondered other, bigger matters.

“Iaera grew heavy with child,” Asha went on, her voice turning sad, “and heavier with pain. It weighed her down, made each step feel like knives fresh from the forge were piercing her feet and legs. But the more painful it became for her to exist on land, the more beautiful she became. Her belly was as round and hard as a melon, but her breasts were full and lovely, and she seemed to glow with an inner radiance. The Grey King despaired at what he knew was to come, but the Queen would not let him dwell on it; she took him to her bed nightly, and often in the middle of the day as well. Those were their happiest days and saddest, all wrapped into one.”

Theon could see Iaera in his mind, all soft curves and sad eyes. She seemed to him to be the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine, and he imagined his own wife, sometime in the indeterminate future, round with child and full of love for him.

“But eventually, her time came, and Iaera was delivered of not one, but two beautiful babies, a little boy and a little girl. She lived just long enough to hold both of them, kiss their tiny fingers and give them each a name.”

“What were their names?” Theon asked.

Asha shrugged, her sharp elbow digging into his side. “Nobody remembers their given names anymore. Now can I tell the damn story, or…?” He nodded and she went on.

“Good. So, the babies grew, loved by all, including their father. The girl was the eldest by minutes, but the son was his heir, of course. As they grew older, the girl was drawn to her mother’s kin and took a merman as her lover. Their children’s children’s children are the Farwynds, known throughout the Iron Islands as skinchangers.”

“And the boy? His children?”

“He had many saltwives, but only one rock wife, as the Old Ways decreed. Their children, and their children’s children, have always been known as Greyjoys, as their father was the joy of the Grey King himself.”

Asha scooted over a little so she could look him in the eye, and Theon squirmed at the fierceness in her eyes. “That means you, baby brother. You are the son of Kings, no matter what the greenlanders say. Do you understand?” Theon nodded wordlessly, staring at her wide-eyed, and she gave him a pat on the cheek that almost wasn’t a slap. “Good. Do not ever forget it, Theon. They will try and make you one of them, or they will try and make you no one at all, but you’re Theon Greyjoy, son of Pyke and the Iron Islands.”


End file.
